He felt like it was his job to protect me. (Well..it was)
But not to this extent.
Was he going to eventually turn us in? Or were we just going to fall off the map completely?
"So you want me and Sam to live here.." I looked at him with fair scrutiny. I mean, he had to know how chaotic this all was.
"Yes." He confirmed, and those eyes looked anything but unsure.
"I'll pay you 250 a month." I said, wiping my hands on my pants.
"If you really wish to." He sighed. "I really don't need it."
"Yeah, well.." I couldn't just sit around and not pay him for his troubles. "Too bad."
"That's fine, then." He concluded, standing up suddenly and striding over to his closet, fishing out a plain grey t-shirt, and slipping it over his head.
I watched the grey cloak over harsh pink scars and frowned.
"Did your step-father do that to you?" I murmured, and he turned to look at me with wide eyes, and furrowed brows. It looked like one of Sam's 'Dean, pleeaassee' faces.
"Did what?" He stuttered, hands groping his lower back instinctively.
"…I'm sorry..I shouldn't-"
"No…!" He interrupted, throwing his hand out to stop me from continuing. He realized he had sounded rather forward. "No.." He tried again, voice soft and understanding. "It's fine. Really, it is."
"Okay.." I ventured, gesturing to his back.
"Yes, when I was 16.." He rubbed the back of his neck.
I realized I didn't know exactly how long ago that was. This was a good opportunity to get his actual age.
"And…how old are you?" I asked, trying not to sound ridiculous.
He just chuckled hollowly and looked at me through his lashes, batting them suggestively. "Why do you want to know?" He challenged.
I felt my face go hot again, and I tried to find something logical to say. Something not intrusive and slightly to extremely creepy.
"I'm just messing with you." He said whole-heartedly, patting me reassuringly. I just gushed and mentally kicked myself again.
"I'm 23, if you really want to know."
I gulped. Better than I expected. We weren't that far apart. I mean, I'd hooked up with that 22-year old chick at Ash's birthday party, and that was two years ago.
What? Was I thinking about hooking up with Cas? The police officer?
"You seem distracted." Cas observed. And I was, considering I hadn't really registered the words until he touched my arm.
"Oh…yeah." I tried to come up with an excuse, I really did, but I looked up at him and I just got lost in those oceans. Drowning in pure blue, reaching for that safe black pupil, but it, too gets swallowed in blue.
He looked back, just mesmerizing me all the harder.
"Dean, I don't want you to think I'm being an ass or anything, but I really should inspect your wounds." He said after a few moments of quiet staring.
I coughed in response, reminded of how uncomfortable this could be.
"That is a lot of blood." He added, pointing to my leg, where it had festered even more with me wiping my sweaty hands all over my thighs.
I cursed and he told me he'd be right back.
He padded over to the bathroom, grabbing a pair of plaid sweat pants on his way, changed into clean pants and I silently thanked the heavens because there was no way I could handle any more of his bare skin.
He returned with new pants, and a large white box with a red cross on it. First aid kit.
"Would you mind removing your shirt?" He asked, his voice low, and serious.
But I felt my tongue swell none the less.
"Thought you'd never ask." I teased and he let out an amused sound.
I self-consciously removed my shirt, watching him as he fished around the kit, pulling out gauze and antiseptic.
I balled my shirt in my hands and nervously pulled at its slightly elastic collar.
He looked up and paused, although I couldn't tell if he did it on purpose or not.
He scanned my entire torso, eyes uneasy, mouth pulled tight.
But he silently wept, Tears fell from his eyes as he saw my bruised body.
Any chance of this turning sexual was lost as he pulled me up into his arms and hugged me, so careful and hesitant but I needed it.
God I wanted it.
The warmth of him, easing away the pain.
He took it away, whether he knew it or not.
But you must think, you can't just take away pain. But he did.
Maybe because most of it hurt deep down in my psyche.
I needed positive touches every so often. Maybe it was why I hooked up with girls I didn't even like.
Maybe it was why I found myself more interested in men. Because my father was such a piece of shit I needed to convince myself not everyone was like him.
And they weren't.
Cas wasn't. He was more like me than I'd ever have guessed.
But he was so different on another level.
He was mature and strong. He was true to himself and wasn't afraid to show his scars.
But I was weak. A shadow of a man in his presence.
"Dean, I'm so sorry." He whispered again and again, rocking me in his arms like a baby.
I would have said it's okay, no big deal, get the hell off of me. But it felt so good.
It felt fucking fantastic to be able to put down the front, just once, and let go.
Let go of all the self-hatred and let him hold me.
Take care of me.
"I know, Cas." I whispered and he gently pulled me backward to look at my face.
I realized then what I'd said. "Oh, I'm sorry… Castiel." I corrected.
"No" He grinned so wide I thought his skin might rip from being pulled so extensively across his cheeks. "I love that."
I smiled back, pride glowing in my belly. "You do?"
"Yes." He nodded enthusiastically. Then he looked back down at me, and sniffed.
"Let's get you cleaned up."
"Okay."
He had me sitting on the floor, back against his bed, as he put salve over my many bruises.
The fresh ones were bright purple now. Some even black mixed with blue.
The older ones slowly faded to light purples and blues, some even green-ish.
And most of them were faded greys and yellows.
We talked as he fixed me.
His hands ran over my sides and massaged on the oily balm.
"When was the last time?" He asked, ironically rubbing the ones from earlier that day.
"Today." I choked.
He hesitated for a moment. He chewed the inside of his cheek and continued.
"What happened?"
I told him everything, starting with the morning up until he came.
About John being wasted. Sam knocking him out. Of course, after he tried to kill me.
Cas was quiet for a while after I was done speaking. He didn't say much but I knew he was angry.
"I'm going to put him away for a long time." He growled, and when he looked at me the pure, fiery rage in his eyes told me everything.
And I couldn't help but reach out and grab his hand. I'm not sure what made me do it, but the anger ran from his eyes, leaving only pain and concern.
I knew I mirrored it back to him, but I didn't want him to be worried.
"We're safe with you." I said, and something about that made his face brighten visibly.
He nodded, and continued rubbing cream on my bruises.
He then got out a bandage and told me to lift my arms. I did as I was told and he wrapped it all the way around my mid-section. Tight enough so that it didn't fall, but loose enough that I still had flexibility.
Then, he did something I don't think I'd have ever pictured someone like him doing.
Despite how docile he looked now, out of his uniform, he had strong, lean muscles under those clothes. And I was pretty sure he could over power me, even if I didn't want to admit it.
But for being the guy I thought he was; leaning down and kissing my ribs wasn't something I'd expected to see.
Although, it was something that would change Cas and my relationship immensely.
"Cas." I forced out, after regaining my voice. I had lost the ability to speak after he kissed me.
He turned back around from his squat, where he was putting away the ointment.
"Um..my leg.." I said awkwardly pointing to my own almost-crotch.
"Oh." He said smiling with an inside-joke waiting on those lips.
"Do you want me to…?" I touched my belt, my hands on fire because I was actually asking him if he wanted me to take my pants off.
(Context? What context?)
"I thought you'd never ask." He looked up at me and his eyes were swallowed by pupil this time.
I felt my heart beat in my throat. Did he really just fucking take my own line and use it against me right before I was going to be nearly-naked in front of him?
I began to regret this decision as my belt came off.
Oh god could I really control myself if he accidentally did something sexy?
Sexy? Cas wasn't…sexy. He was gorgeous.
But sexy wasn't the right word. He was too classy for that.
What if he accidentally touches my dick? And I got hard. My face went white at the thought.
Oh god, this better not blow up in my face.
But as I shucked my jeans off, Cas was entirely relaxed.
So I tried to be too.
He examined the wound for a moment, before reaching into the box and gathering a box of butterfly band-aides, some Neosporin, Hydrogen Peroxide, and more gauze.
"Let's start with this." He held up the hydrogen peroxide and I winced.
"I know, I know." He smiled in sympathy.
"Just get it over with." I sighed and as he prepared some cotton balls, I found myself clutching his shoulders as the alcohol drained into my body.
It stung like bees, but inside my leg, through my bloodstream where I'm sure an infection was starting.
It bubbled and hissed loudly, white bubbles frothing at the surface of the wound.
It felt like hours until the pain began to subside, but when it did I released Cas's shirt and he chuckled, because apparently neither one of us had noticed until then.
He cleaned it up with some anti-bacterial wipes, and doused it in Neosporin.
Then came the butterfly band-aides. He placed them on either side of the cut and held it together.
It would heal much better this way.
Then, of course he asked me to bend my knee slightly so he could reach under my leg and wrap it up for me.
His hands were so close to my crotch I could feel their balminess radiating into me.
But I ignored it, because he was taking care of me. And, on its own, that was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me.
He fastened the gauze, perfectly secure so it would stay, but it wasn't cutting off my circulation either.
Then, he leaned down and kissed it.
I could have came up with a thousand reasons why that was arousing, because holy fuck it was.
But at the same time, I couldn't find myself being too bothered by it. It was a sign of nurturing more than anything. The fact that he wanted to care for me and I wanted to be taken care of.
"Cas?" I asked after everything was cleaned up, except my shirt, because I honestly didn't feel like wearing it. But my pants were back on, and we were still.
We had been sitting in comfy silence for a while now.
"Hm?" He asked, lazily rolling his head to look at me.
"Thanks."
"No problem, Dean."
Then it was quiet again.
Another few minutes.
"Cas?"
"Yes, Dean?"
I had been staring at him the whole time, watching him as he set his alarm, and checked his messages.
All the while staying on the floor flushed next to me.
He didn't want to move.
I didn't want him to.
"I said yes, Dean." He repeated, as I stayed silent for a few moments, just staring, lost in my thoughts.
And all of my thoughts, were about Cas.
In that moment, everything was Castiel.
The hero.
The man who was saving me, saving Sam, too.
But he understood better than anyone, even Sammy, ever could have.
He understood and he was perfect.
He was polite and witty and despite his stuck-up looks, he was laid-back and flexible.
Not to mention his immaculate features.
Or the way he could heal me, with just a touch.
It all sounds so adolescent-school-girl, but it's true.
And I knew I was developing a crush on the cop.
"Dean, spit it out." He teased, nudging me playfully.
"I'm sorry." I chuckled, and I couldn't tell you now where the courage came from.
Maybe it was the utter affection I felt that fueled me forward.
Or possibly the pure draw of him that seemed to get to me so easily.
But I couldn't control myself from cocking my head to him, leaning toward his mouth.
And I certainly couldn't control him leaning back, hands so cautious, as they warmly cupped around my neck.
I couldn't control the fire inside when our lips finally, finally met.
The explosion I felt was both nerves and butterflies, mixed with untamed succession.
We were kissing. There on his floor.
His lips were everything I expected and more.
They were plush and wet and warm.
His forehead leaned against mine as his breath filled my mouth.
I had to counteract the weight he placed on me, so I wrapped my arms loosely around his shoulders.
It could have been a lustful, needy kiss. It should have been, I suppose.
But instead it was just a kiss.
Well, not just a kiss.
It was a bond, a permanent mark I'd have. My first kiss with a man, huh?
But that wasn't the only reason.
It was because this particular kiss, was the single most intimate act I'd ever shared with another person at that point in my life.
It was so full of tender heart and honest adoration I can't even describe it accurately without the words feeling empty compared to the actually act.
It was a lifetime before we parted.
But as our lip finally withdrew, hands unwinding and bodies separating (not by very much), I looked into his eyes, glazed and totally wound.
"Dean?" He nearly whimpered. The sound went straight to my cock. Oops.
"Yes, Cas?" I answered, crossing my legs.
"Sleep…here…with me..tonight." He knew well enough that I could have taken it as a sexual advance.
But the sheer look of longing and the stress it caused him, evident on his face, convinced me otherwise.
"No problem, Cas." Because maybe, I didn't really want to leave either.